Her Dragon, His Otter
by BabyIt'sImpala67
Summary: DramioneAU: tackling the prompt of Soulmates; Wizards and Witches split a creature romantically more powerful than veelas apart centuries ago- the result, select witches and wizards now born with tattoos of either inanimate object or beasts, depending on the type of bond they shared once upon a time. Bashing! & Dark!Lucius
1. Introduction

**A/N: I would like all of the readers who stumble upon this fic to know that I am an extremely slow updater. If you look on my profile page you'll find three fics uncompleted, but I did finished one. I DO PLAN ON FINISHING THIS! So don't be unsure about reading it. It will just be a long FF in progress story, but I have everything already planned out for it so all I have to do is write. Plus, it's Dramione... my first one, but** _ **Dramione**_ **. I have to finish it. In addition, half of chapter two is already done.**

 **What you do need to know is that this fic will have a** **high T rating** **because of the violence. There will extensive references to violence and torture. You will mainly see this in Draco's life throughout the fic, but you will see the biggest torture bit in year 7 because of Hermione's already existing torture from Bellatrix LeStrange in the books and movies. I will, however, go into detail even further when the time comes. In addition to this, there will be** _ **NO**_ **harsh coarse language or any smut whatsoever. There will probably be an occasional hell or damn when necessary, and probably a kiss or two in the teenage years, but** _ **nothing**_ **worth an M rating.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any canon work from J.K Rowling, the Queen of literature, but its fun to pretend I do. I mean if she wants to rent out Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger for my use, I'd be down for it. I mean probably any Dramione shipper would be; we could finally free her from her idiot of a canon husband, and give her the man she deserves. (#SorryNotSorry for Ron Weasley basing) I will not add any more disclaimers on the continuing chapters since I have done so here.**

* * *

 **Her Dragon, His Otter**

 **Prologue**

* * *

There once was a creature with four arms, four legs, two heads, and one heart and soul. These beings, however, were the largest danger there was to the known world. Their intellect, their love and devotion to their other half, caused them to be a constant danger to all of those around them. So, the masters of the era, the most talented and bravest wizards and witches, decided it was wise to separate these beings into halves. The name of the creature has been lost for eons, but the legend and certain fact remain; somewhere in the world that half of yourself is waiting and searching.

The only clue that these lonely halves had received was a marking, a tattoo if you will, that represented their better half.

Now the most common things to have were inanimate objects, but those were only for the lower class of these beings. The legend says that the more personalized the marking, the stronger the love was. The stronger the love, the more primal and territorial they got- this being the reason for the leaders of the era to separate them. Their mates would do anything for their beloved half.

For these creatures who had the more intimate sort of marking, on the other hand, were made of the very love that keeps them alive and delighted beyond measure. The very thing that kept the darkness away, and showed that light could come in the darkest of times. A thing as old as the beings themselves, and something that not every soul can create. Yet, the modern times had come up with another name for this bliss, this shield of love, one that most people knew by heart.

The masters and mistresses in the charms field called it a _patronus_.

She could tell you the first moment she fully understood what the weird shape on her chest meant, and nothing would ever take away that rapturous moment. She was only seven, but nothing would ever be the same again. Someone wanted to love her. Yes, her parents loved her, but she always felt something missing. Even if she couldn't tell what it was at first. She always knew.

She remembered on her fifth birthday, two years ago, that everyone she knew was smiling all around her. Their excitement and laughter ringing through the house from her family, but her smile barely reached her eyes. How could it when her heart was heavy and there was a sinking feeling in her stomach. _Where was her happiness?_ Her parents knew when she was born that her life, until she found them would be difficult, but the silver lining in her cloud was that someone loved her to the point of death. They were out there, she realized only recently.

 _Somewhere_.

And that led her back to that moment. The moment her naïve baby brain finally contemplated that someone wanted her like she wanted them. This yearning feeling that she woke up to every single day that only got worse as her mind discovered what the imbedded image in her skin meant. _Where was her prince like in the Disney movies?_ Every time the questions popped up in her mind, she would rebuke them and silently answer to herself that she was a young lady of science and fact, and that her mind was no place for fairytales.

It was strange that her parents had no idea why she was born with one of the tattoos, they weren't common in her family. Her mother once said that her grandmother had one, but that was the end of that. Even the doctors that had delivered her on September 19th, 1979 said that it was almost an inexplicable event that a baby be born with such a marking- especially when it was the size of the one she had. That's why the doctors stayed silent, that's why her parents never let her be partially nude as an infant- her yellow and pink onesies always on, and that's why she was taught from the time she could speak that she was to hide her little secret.

Her mark to the modern world was eerie and to an extent, _supernatural_.

Therefore, when she figured it out, she forgot the world, and ran up to the bathroom next to her room. Her unsteady hands locked the door, and she threw off her tiny jumper. Her eyes immediately caught on the beast clinging on to her beanpole child figure; it's colors apparent but camouflaged at the same time against her ivory freckled skin. The beast's hues were ones of periwinkle and sliver with the occasional shade of charcoal or tint of white to the raised or sunk places on the beast. As she admired the creature on her skin, her mind of science and fact laughed in irony. Since of the creature marring her skin had to be of mythological origin, of course.

A _dragon_ , to be exact.

The dragon's scaled tail curled deep around her ribs as its body laid against her sternum, and its head rested against her heart. If anyone else saw the beast, they would think it harsh and incredibly intimidating for a child to have it blemish her skin. To her, though, it was like coming home after a long day at sea. The dragon was kind and comforting and all she wanted to do was cradle the skin there as if were an actual creature resting against her.

She took one long last look at her shining dragon and sighed. She was a smart girl, and she knew that if anyone ever knew that she had her dragon, people would want her. For what, she didn't know, but for what she did know was that most of those intentions were as good as rotting compost. And that's why she needed to hide. So, she grabbed her jumper off the floor and shrugged it back on; she took a deep breath a second later after her head came popping up through the jacket as she tried to compose herself.

Only the doctors that had birthed her in hospital, her parents, and herself knew of her albino-like dragon. And it needed to stay that way. As she was trying to compose herself, her little seven-year-old-soul made a promise. No one would see her dragon, she would fight her hardest before she let them. She would fight even harder because of where it was placed. This would be one of the few times she would allow herself to admire her dragon because the saying did go, _'out of sight out of mind'_ , and she knew if her promise was ever to be kept, she needed to keep her mouth shut.

And Hermione did.

* * *

His parents practically worshiped him, never mind that he was their only son, but for the sole fact that he had an intimate soul mark. Sure, it was mediocre sized, but it was there. Ever since he was born, the golden fuzzy otter had cuddled against his heart. Not that he particularly cared, mind. He was a _pureblood_ , and if there was one thing that his father had taught him, it was the pureblood traditions.

His nine-year-old self grimaced at the thought of losing his other half, but he had to let it go. His father didn't hold to the legend of the creatures and their marks- even if his son had one. Nevertheless, he was still brought up with simple rules he had to follow to be acceptable to their society: have astounding manners, be agreeable, don't argue with the elders, and accept anything the elders do for you. These were the basic rules, but he had to have them perfect for his father to be anywhere near slightly pleased. Or bad things would happen.

His mother was strict- however, she was kind, but his father was cruel to a degree of brutality behind closed doors. He would dot upon his son in public, play the part of the prideful father for the press, but at the manor, he was anything but dotting. Lucius would flat out ignore his son for days if he didn't impress him in others company. If he was particularly snide or unbecoming, when they arrived back at the manor, Lucius would take him by the scruff of his neck and pull him off to _'knock some sense into the boy'_.

His mother, Narcissa, would be powerless against her husband in fear he'd do the same to her. Both his mother and he knew the ways of the purebloods, and whatever his father said, _went_.

That included who he was to be betrothed to.

He, to some degree, had a choice between a few young ladies. One of his oldest friends, Pansy, another further off friend of his, Daphne, or her younger sister, Astoria. He wouldn't choose Pansy if his life depended on it. She was malicious and narcissistic to anyone she deemed unworthy of her presence. He himself had seen her sneer at other children, and spit acidic words at them with her sharp tongue. Then she would return to the conversation like nothing ever happened. He didn't want to choose Daphne either. She was frosty and vain. The thing he noticed she liked to attend to most was her hair. She wouldn't engage in normal conversation, and she would flat out ignore anyone who bothered her. Astoria was another story, she was still young, two years younger than her sister, and still moldable. So, he had no idea how she was going to turn out.

But he didn't want a cold and barren relationship. He wanted one of warmth and contentment- just like the feeling his curled-up otter gave him. His heart ached for the compassion he desperately wanted, and he knew the only way he was going to get it, was if he found his otter. So, he made a vow with himself. He would find the woman who gave his life meaning and warmth. It wouldn't matter if she wasn't like him- if she wasn't a pureblood. He had an inkling feeling she wasn't, and he knew what his father spouted about blood supremacy was complete codswallop; _how could it be true if all blood ran red, and nothing like the sludge his father and his friends called them?_ He needed to keep his emotions and mask in place if he was ever going to keep her safe if she wasn't a pureblood. But no matter what he would find her, and forsake his father's decision even if it killed him.

And Draco would.


	2. Letters and Commands

**A/N: I was planning an adding another scene at the end after Draco's POV, but I thought since it was so long already that I would rather save it for the next chapter. The reason I am able to post this so fast after posting the prologue was because I had already written it before, but the next updates, like I said in the prologue A/N will be more spread out, I don't write very fast so the update will be a lot more sparse. (Like I already said)**

 **BTW, "** _ **Et calicem viventem",**_ **is a Latin spell I made up with the help of Google Translate for the transfiguration early in the chapter for McGonagall. "** _ **Et calicem viventem"**_ **means "Cup to Creature"**

* * *

 **Chapter II**

 **Letters and Commands**

* * *

The weeks or so before her eleventh birthday were a complete joke. There was no way she was a witch. _None_ , whatsoever. The woman by the kitchen counter in her dark emerald robes and tight bun was barking mad if she though that Hermione would essentially believe that magic existed.

"Are you listening to me, dear? This is incredibly import information if you are going to attend Hogwarts," said the woman, Professor McGonagall, she said her name was said.

"I don't believe you," Hermione's voice was incredibly strained and forced for an eleven-year-old. Her face was showing bright as day what her opinion on the older woman in her kitchen was. _Cynicism and suspicion_. Minerva McGonagall huffed in annoyance emitting from her nose, and looked back at her after glancing at her parents. The kitchen's atmosphere was beginning to become uncomfortable.

"Would it help if I gave a demonstration?"

"There would be a possibility."

Professor McGonagall sighed, her age was not helping her exhaustion, as she pulled her wand from its holster in her sleeve. Her posture straightened even more as her arm slightly raised.

" _Et calicem viventem_."

The tea cup that been handed to the older woman when she arrived had turned itself into a toucan, its black feathers and bright beak becoming a stark contrast of the cream-colored room. You could hear a pin drop in the upcoming silence- that was, however, before the bird tilted its head and cooed.

"As you can see Miss Granger, magic is very real," the Professor was still quite peeved at Hermione's early attitude as she waved her wand the bird once again and it returned to a tea cup, "Now as for your schooling, will you be accepting or declining young lady?"

Hermione was still inaudible. Everything in her thinking was telling her it was a lie, and it was hard for her to wrap her head around the fact. Her parents next to her were still shocked, but they were more in awe than anything else. Don't get her wrong, she was quite fascinated as well. Yet, still Hermione's mind whizzed in a million different directions, and her brain wouldn't stop until she had her answers.

"How?"

"No one quite knows, but magic has always been a part of this world, ever since the beginning. Including many magical beasts that are quite real, I assure you, and some are in your muggle mythology."

"Muggle?" This was instead her mother who questioned the elder woman.

"A non-magical person, Mrs. Granger; most muggle-born families when they first find out think of it as an insult as well. You are not the first, but I once again assure you that it is only a peaceful term to our society in regard to the non-magical community," Professor McGonagall was beginning to understand the partially unwelcome feeling she first received by talking to the family.

"What kind of creatures?" Hermione was warming up rather quickly to the idea of being a witch. Her entire immediate family knew that she was always different. "In the mythology, that is."

Minerva shot a quick thin lipped smile at the girl, and answered the curious young mind she was sure that was going to join the school at the beginning of the year. "The more common ones, Dear, most likely. For example: fairies, unicorns, werewolves, dragons, soul creatures-"

"Soul creatures?" Hermione's attention completely forgot anything besides the last one on the Professors list, and she was genuinely interested. Hermione thought her heart was going to burst, but she couldn't tell why. She wasn't sure if it had to do with the fact that her world had limited knowledge on them, or if it was the fact that it chord was struck deep within her.

"Yes, normally a lass your age would be more interested in the unicorns rather than the tragic tale of the soul creature. You would still like to know, yes?" Hermione nodded to her in rapt attention. "Well it is common knowledge both in magical and muggle worlds that there was a creature with several appendages, but of one heart and soul. It is also common knowledge that these beings were exiled from their other half because of the fear their name created, but it is not common knowledge to muggles that these soul beings were actually the first humans."

Jane and Richard look disbelieving, while Hermione continued to pay attention while the Scottish woman spoke. Even to the point of nodding in-between the elder witch's words.

"These humans, nevertheless, were separated from their proper halves by the fear and jealousy of the half humans. These were the people who were born with, what we would call, a normal number of limbs, but they also sorely lacked in compassion and emotion since they had no better half like the soul creatures did; Something tragic about the story is that there are still people like this in our modern world," Minerva sighed at the young lass as she continued the tale. "This was also centuries and centuries ago, yet some very special people in the magical world have the mark of the soul creature. These few wizards and witches in the world normally were born with an image on their body, similar to a muggle tattoo that is the embodiment of their other half."

The Granger family was now hanging on every word the Scottish woman said. Hermione was practically slipping from her seat.

"Of course, then there are the intimate soul creatures as well. These beings were stronger than the others. These were the beings that were so powerful- because of their love and intelligence that they were the reason the half humans feared them. This kind of soul creature, however, is different from the previous ones because their markings are different. The intimate beings had a tattoo in the form of their better half's patronus."

Hermione's face was contorted into a confused expression, before the Scottish witch could even spit out another word, "A patronus, Professor?"

Minerva smiled at Hermione again. "The patronus charm, it's something that is taught to elder students at Hogwarts. However, it is the shield that protects their caster from darkness, like dementors," Hermione looked like she was going to say something yet again. "Miss Granger, if you are so curious, you might as well come to Hogwarts and learn all about magic because it seems as if you can't get enough of it."

Professor McGonagall was giving her a knowing look. Hermione knew that she was caught in one of her research modes, and it was embarrassing to harass an old witch for information just because she had the knowledge when she herself did not.

"But the rest of the information on patronus' Professor, what do they have to do with these _soul creatures?_ "

"They only have to, as you put it, deal with the intimate soul creatures because their mate's patronus is what the image on their bodies are, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall was being to feel the tension of the evening fatigue approach, and she sighed again with in the Granger's kitchen.

"I will ask again Miss Granger, just as to clarify the answer, but will you be joining us at Hogwarts on the first of September?"

"Yes, I do believe so, Professor," Hermione answered with the flush still staining her cheeks from her earlier embarrassment. She looked back at her parents, and received their support when both Richard and Jane nodded their heads and smiled back at her.

"Then I do believe that I will need to alert one of the families willing to help that they have a guest joining them," McGonagall stood proudly as she began to collect herself, and walk toward the door.

The Grangers followed her, and watched as she took her pointed hat from the coat rack and angled it gently back over her tight bun of gray hair. She looked so regal, even in her age, her seamless dark forest green silk robes, the dazzling gem broach that quietly rested against her throat, and even the elongated feather that stuck up out of the back of the hat's brim. It just made her look like she was a part of a painting instead of an actual person.

"How will I know what time they are expecting me, let alone the date, Professor McGonagall?" Hermione was beginning to fret that the wizarding family just expected her to know, from what, _telepathy_?

"Don't worry, Miss Granger, I was told that this particular family was planning on leaving for schooling supplies on the first Saturday of August at eleven. I will, however, reevaluate that information and sent word to you about the final time," Minerva was just about to the door to let herself out. "Is that all you wanted to ask me before I take my leave?"

"No, but it will have to do. Thank you for your time Professor, but I have one last question if that's alright?" Hermione bit her lip after she asked.

"Of course, one more, I could never stop a student from learning," McGonagall replied.

"Does Hogwarts have a library?" Hermione asked sheepishly. The blush that started to spread across her cheeks was a soft pink that made her freckles sound out ever further than normal.

Minerva truly smiled, "Yes Miss Granger, Hogwarts does have a library, one of the largest in wizarding Britain," She retorted.

Hermione's face lit up, and her embarrassment forgotten, "Then I truly can't wait!"

"Hmmm. You would make an excellent Ravenclaw, Miss Granger, I will expect great things from you."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione declared.

"Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Miss Granger, Hogwarts will be expecting you," Professor Minerva McGonagall stated. She turned around to face the door, but instead with a pop, she was gone.

Hermione turned to face her parents, "Well that was informative," she said blatantly.

All they could do was nod in agreement.

* * *

The sunlight was the only warm thing around him. Everything else was monotone and still. Not to mention lifeless and cold to the touch, maybe it was because everything he owned was either in black, shades of grey, or the darkest green you've ever seen. It disgusted him. _Wasn't a family supped to be lively and euphoric?_

Not for the purebloods, especially the _Malfoys_.

As he sat on the faultlessly white windowsill, he stared down at the ancestral grounds below him: the perfectly edged shrubbery, the crisp clean lines of the lawn, even the fountains and gardens had no blemish to them. He guessed that had to do with the seemingly countless number of house elves attending them.

Even he himself looked like the manor and grounds. Not a hair out of place, his robes were constructed of the finest silk and were pressed to perfection, still obtaining the dull colors of the estate. The robes were a pitch black, his slacks the same; he had a white button up tucked in and held up with a belt, while a green tie wrapped around his throat as it laid flat with a silver snake tie-pin. He thought the little thing wanted to strangle him- he debated wither he really wanted it to or not.

The day itself wasn't dreary, not at all, the sun shone bright, but the breeze carried the trees along. Draco could only stare at how divine it looked. Father said it wasn't proper for scions to present themselves like the common peasant. What he did say was proper: shoulders back, back straight, chin up, and the list could go on. Everything his father wanted him to be was taught to him by his mother and her personal elves before he was even ten.

And that's how he sat on that cushions of the grand window facing the grounds, back straight and head bowed as he watched the landscape with an emotionless mask etched onto his face.

The room was stale, but the moment a pop in the background distracted him momentarily. His shoulder went with his straight back as he rose his head and turned to the sound. There standing just behind him was his father's house elf. The mangy little thing looked dreadful. Its nasty pillow-case toga was covered in grime, dirt, and if he saw correctly, snot and a spotting of blood.

The elf came towards him in a hesitant manner; the miniature thing was practically trembling. Draco wasn't sure if he was supposed to sneer at the ghastly manner of the elf, or feel slightly sympathetic. He, after all, knew how far his father's wrath could overcome him as well. However, the elf still came closer, and he began to stutter before addressing him as well.

"S-Si-sir, Dobby has come to tells you that the elder master has requested young sir's presence. Master also tolds Dobby to tells the young sir to come quicklys."

 _Hmm, what does father want now? Nothing good, probably._

"Where is father, Dobby?"

"Master Malfoy is in his studys young sir," Dobby was hesitant to come any closer to him. It didn't matter if Draco never actually abused the elf, his father did enough for the entire Malfoy family.

Draco nodded in acceptance to the elf's commentary. "Tell father I will be there shortly."

"Thank yous, young sir, Dobby wills tells the elder master," Dobby didn't say another thing, he just popped off again.

Draco was once again alone in the sun room overlooking the gardens. He sighed heavily. He then rose from the windowsill's cushioned bench and glided to the room's doors. With a gentle push, the door gave way to the dank halls of the manor.

He continued walking down the corridors of his family's ancestral home; the painting and art that littered the hallways were either family relics or extremely expensive. Draco noticed that most of them lacked taste, but in some divine way, they ended up the best. And Malfoy's always got the best. The scion continued to travel the halls with his shoulders back, hands clasped behind his back, and posture perfect. He was nearing his father's study; a place only meant for business transactions. Sometimes Draco wondered if he was included in that.

His thought process continued down this line of thinking as he looked at the portraits of the past Malfoy family. Some long dead great uncle on the right, a married in cousin on the left. The events leading up to his birth were like a business plan in of itself. Cygnus Black, his mother's paternal father, came along to Abraxas Malfoy, his father's paternal father, and basically sold his youngest daughter away simply for the fact that the Malfoys were pure enough.

Draco thought of his parent's marriage contract. He thought about how is mother was so indifferent to the thought of marrying his father that it was like if he was to naturally be born without interference, his birth would've never happened. Not that he blamed his mother, his father was truly disagreeable. However, he was perfectly agreeable in the sight of the pureblooded patriarchal figures.

The heir's mental discussion was cut when he reached the broad mahogany doors of his father's office. He knocked on the door waiting for his father to grant him allowance to enter. Draco had once burst in unannounced, and to say that that had ended badly would've been an understatement. He was just lucky that his father was alone in that past occurrence. The _cruico_ he had received had been excruciating- considering it was _the_ torture curse after all.

Lucius's refined British voice rang from inside the room, "Enter."

Draco clutched the handle and twisted before he pushed. He walked in, and his father sneered at him.

"Draco," Lucius twistedly drawled. "What took so long?"

"Excuse my tardiness, father, I was in the sun room."

Lord Malfoy still continued to sneer at his heir, but he rolled his eyes only to then set his face in his use blank expression before speaking again, "We will be traveling to Diagon Ally in precisely one hour. I expect you to look presentable. Your mother will be joining us as we are traveling there for your school supplies, am I clear?"

"Yes father, crystal," Draco still stood in front of his father's desk instead of sitting on the patent leather chairs behind him. Draco knowing not to unless he was there to make a business, and he wasn't planning on it. _He was to naïve, his father said_.

"Is there anything else you require of me, sir?"

"Yes, Draco, you are to tell your mother."

"Of course, Father, is there anything specific you wish for me to tell mother?"

"Only that I expect the same from her as from you."

"Yes sir."

Lucius nodded to Draco.

"Then you may leave."

The grand doors to the study clicked shut, and he wanted to get as far away as possible. Draco figured his mother would be lounging in the library taking tea right about now. It's what she usually did on simplistic days like this without potentially upsetting her spouse. His mother and he were as much prisoners in their house, as the Death Eaters and criminals within Azkaban's walls.

However, the manor's walls felt like they went on forever as the heir hurried to his mother in their library. A long right. A sharp left. A stair well up again. _Would this journey ever stop?_ He still pasted all his dead family's portraits and random art artifacts. However, he was coming closer and closer to the grand doors of the Malfoy library. Unlike the terrifying dark doors of his father's study, the dark stained doors of the library were like a warm embrace. Almost like a haven to mother and son.

With the warm dark doors coming into his vision in rapid progression, his footfalls started to slow. When he had to stop at the entrance of the doors Draco could feel his racing heart. Finally, with some semblance of control over his unease, he pushed the door aside and entered the library; just as he expected, there sat his mother with a book and her antique tea set with a cup filled with a steaming liquid. Draco walked towards her, and sat with her as she continued to read her book.

"Good morning, my Dragon," Narcissa's voice was like slick honey, warm and sweet.

Draco watch as his mother turned the page, then shut the book after placing a tasseled book mark in her place in the book's pages before he spoke to her, and periwinkle eyes looked up towards him.

"Good morning, mother, how's your morning been like?"

A watery smile tugged at his mother's lips. "As normal mornings usually are, dear, how has yours been?"

Narcissa's calm demeanor was becoming more concerned at the look on her son's face. A frown started to mar her lips, and her eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Dragon, what's wrong?"

Draco swallowed thickly before answering his mother. "I just finished speaking with father," His grey eyes looked directly into her's, and he saw his mother's eyes shine with concern.

"What did Lucius want?"

"He told me that we all will be leaving at twelve sharp to shop in Diagon Alley for my Hogwarts supplies. He also told me, to tell you, to be presentable."

He watched as his mother nodded in understanding to his comment. She looked down towards the floor in thought; Narcissa's head then raised again to look at her only child.

"Dragon, go eat something before we leave, you look hungry, but you already look fine; however, you might want to straighten your tie before we leave. I will be in my wing fixing myself if you need me, but Reeney will help you if you call her."

Narcissa was beginning to stand as a pop behind her left a house elf in its wake. The little thing was smaller than his father's elf, Dobby, which he had seen not even a half hour ago. She was tinier, yet she was better dressed. Her cloths were still toga like and ivory, but they were clean and free of any blemish. Her eyes were more proportionally sized to her head. The elf's iris weren't black though, much like her kin, instead they were a mauve color. Reeney's ears were still oversized and floppy, much like some dogs in that sense, but otherwise, she was quite adorable. An ugly adorable, but adorable nevertheless.

"Did Mistress calls for Reeney?" The elf's voice was close to the likes of a five-year-old girl's: sweet, high pitched, and innocent.

"I didn't Reeney, but thank you for being prompt anyway. I am off to prepare for a family outing, if I require your assistance I shall call, but if Draco is to require anything you will help his as well, correct?"

The elf's face bloomed into a feature of recognition and excitement at the same time, "Oh yes, Mistress Narcissa, of course Reeney will helps you or your Dragon. Reeney wills most certainly!"

Draco's mother smiled kindly at her house elf. He never got tired of seeing her smile; in a house where darkness lurked in open spaces it was hard for mother and son to be themselves.

"Thank you Reeney. Draco, remember fifteen till noon is when we need to be in the front foyer for Lucius's arrival. Please, for my sake, don't late Dragon," he knew what would happen if he was late.

"Of course, mother."

Draco watched as his mother left, and he turned his head to look at the tea set his mother left in her wake. The china was polished to perfection and the design etched into the porcelain was inked in blue. It really was a beautiful set. The tea cup his mother was drinking from looked stone cold. Reeney was handling the set, about to clean the mess up and pop away again to the kitchen. Before she could, Draco called out to her, "Reeney."

"Yes, Master Draco? You is calling Reeney?"

"Reeney, after you clean up my mother's midmorning tea, could you please bring me brunch here in the library? I don't fancy walking around the manor to the dining hall."

"Of course, Reeneys can. Mistress Narcissa tolds yous and Reeneys that yous needs to eat anyway. Reeney will be rights back with yours brunch," And with a pop Reeney was finally gone with his mother's tea tray and set.

Draco sat were his mother was sitting before during her alone time. He was waiting, but he was admiring the vast sea of knowledge at his fingertips in the Malfoy library. He noticed all the shelves and each book with admiration. It didn't take long for Reeney to return though with food.

"Master Dragon, your lunch is heres," Reeney's voice called out.

"Thank you Reeney," Draco replied politely.

"Please calls Reeneys when Master Draco is dones with his lunch."

He nodded in response.

Draco ate in silence after Reeney popped out of the library. Nearly fifteen minutes later, his plate was clean and his water goblet emptied. Draco looked at the clock on the wall in anxiousness.

11:37 a.m. it read.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He still had time. Knowing that there was a mirror somewhere left of the clock, he began his short trek over. Not before long did he find the ordinate mirror standing out against the wall. The looking glass had intricate aged sliver detailing and a large face. Draco's aristocratic sharp features gazed back at him, even if he was only eleven. His nose was without a slope or hook- just straight, his cheekbones looked defined now- they would probably look like they could cut glass when he aged through puberty. His jaw too. His chin gave it away, he guessed.

Draco sighed as he still stared at his reflection. His mother was right; his tie was slightly crooked. He ended up having to pull the knot back and forth to loosen and adjust it. Draco then pulled the length of the tie straight again. Draco looked down his front to then adjust his crinkled waist coat, and flattened that out too.

Draco looked back into the looking glass to see his reflection again, and nodded at what he saw- he was presentable.

The scion began his trek to the front foyer of the manor, before he even left the library he saw once again his left flatware and plate, remembering what he said to Reeney.

"Reeney."

Pop.

"Master Dragon, yous called."

"I'm done with lunch," Draco was voicing his obvious thoughts in a monotone voice to the elf.

"Of course, sir. Oh! But yous better hurry to the front, Mistress is waiting for yous," Reeney's frantic voice alerted him on how crunched on time he was, and he exited his haven.

The heir quickly walked down corridor after corridor once more. Another few stair wells, and a right led him to the main entry stair wells where he could see his mother standing by the coat rack deciding on an outing cloak. Draco continued down the main stair well until his mother turned around and saw him.

"Dragon, there you are. I thought you were going to be late; you, young man, were about to ride on the devil's coat tails. You had mere seconds before your fath-"

Narcissa was cut off by the indifferent voice of her husband. "Narcissa, Draco, gather your things; we're leaving now."

His slick voice caused his mother to stiffen, and himself to have his breath catch. Draco's mother could have just said something that wouldn't be the wisest against her husband, and it could have ended terribly just then. Instead, she schooled her features, and turned to her impatient husband.

"Very well, Lucius; Draco grab your cloak."

With a well-practiced ease imbedded into his saunter, Draco came forward and selected a pitch black lined cloak with silver serpent clasps that were to rest against his throat. Both of his parents observed him, when with a flourish, he brought the cloak down upon his shoulders, and clasped the two serpents together. Narcissa nodded towards her son in approval, while Lucius looked unimpressed.

Lucius extended his left arm to his wife, and she tucked her hand into the crook of her husband's elbow. The difference though, with his son, was that he just clasped his son's wrist in his cold boney hand forcefully, and without warning, he apparated them into Diagon Alley.

* * *

Today was the Third, the Third of August, and the elder Granger's downstairs in the kitchen were cradling their tea waiting patiently. Upstairs, however, Hermione paced around her room, her mind going in every which direction for the wizarding family who was planning on taking her to Diagon Alley. _Were they nice?_ She didn't know, she just hoped that they were accepting of her. Hermione was about to quadruple check she had everything before that one dreaded, yet awaited, chimed dinged in her ears.

Hermione's eyes widened as she stopped her obsessive pacing, and her mother called for her to come downstairs. While she was coming down the stairs her father was just opening the door. When the door was fully open she saw a tall red-haired man and a short, rather plump, red haired woman. Behind them was what look like a sea of orange-ish red. She was still awaiting on the stairs as her parents welcomed them into their home.

The family, or what she counted, came out to be the two elders and five children following behind them. The one she thought was the oldest had copper-ish curly hair, unlike the rest of them, and stood stiffly as he had his nose in the air. The next oldest, she saw, were twins. They were tall with freckles littering their faces while they sported matching smirks. They stood awfully close. She figured it was because they were twins. The next two, there was a young boy and girl who looked her age. The boy was like the rest with his hair and freckles, but he was shy and his ears were rather red. The girl, however, looked excited. Maybe it's because she was surrounded by so much testosterone.

Her father looked a tad surprised at how many of them there were, but the man turned to him and Hermione's mother.

"Yes, yes, it's a pleasure to meet you, but what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?"

Her parents, and herself, but she wouldn't say it, were mildly confused by the question. She heard snickers from the twins, and a heavy sigh from the oldest. It didn't last long as the man's wife turned to him to smack his arm.

"Arthur!" She turned back and looked at the Grangers. "I'm terribly sorry, it seems my husband's fascination with muggle things has overcome his need for manners. I'm Molly Weasley, and this is my husband Arthur."

Her father smiled openly, while her mother was trying to conceal hers, but her father stuck out his hand to her saying, "I'm Dr. Richard Granger, and this is my wife Jane."

Both Weasley and Granger, patriarch and matriarch, shook hands. Richard then turned around to look at the stairs to his daughter, "This, however, is Hermione."

She started to walk down the stairs, and when she reached her parents side Mrs. Weasley took her into a bear hug.

"It's so nice to meet you dear, these are our children going to Hogwarts too. Sadly, the eldest two have already graduated. Bill's the oldest, he works as a curse breaker, and Charlie works at a dragon reserve in Romania. I wish he didn't, but that's just because I'm his mother. This one however is Percy," She extended her hand to the stiff looking one, "And he's going to be Head Boy this year, so anything you need you can go to him and ask."

Percy stuck out his hand, and Hermione reached to grab it. Percy, he turned out to be a little enthusiastic, and grasped her hand in a firm shake. If he could tell she was a bit hesitant, he didn't show it, "Pleasure Ms. Granger."

"Likewise Mr. Weasley," Hermione's voice relatively small.

Molly then turned to the two twins, "These, dear, are our tw-"

"Twins, Misses Hermione," the one on the right said completely cutting off Mrs. Weasley.

"That's right," The one on the left said.

"And I'm Gred."

"And I'm Feogre."

They both stuck out their opposite hands, and in perfect sync, "Nice to meet you."

Hermione turned to Mrs. Weasley, "Are their names really Gred and Feorge?"

Mrs. Weasley had a scowl on her face. However, not at Hermione, she was looking past her at her boys.

"No, dear, their names are Fred and George."

"Do they always talk like that?"

Both twins scoffed, "Why, Misses Hermione, is there anything wrong with the way we talk?"

"Surly you weren't trying to offend us?"

"Yeah, Missy, what's wrong with us?"

They both had their arms crossed while looking at her angrily.

"N-Nothing! I didn't mean anything offensive! I was just try-"

Their grimaces starting cracking, and laughter bubbled up from their throats.

"We know."

"We were just messing with you."

Hermione looked dejected from the two, scoffing to the both of them. She looked at her parents behind her. Her eyes caught her mother's, and she looked pleasantly content. Her father, on the other hand, looked exhilarated.

"I like those two," he whispered.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the twins. "Fine, okay, but it wasn't very funny."

"Of course."

"Our apologies, Misses Hermione."

"Do please forgive us?"

Fred and George extended their hands again at her, and she shook Gred's (or who she assumed was Fred's) hand, before moving onto his brother.

"Apology accepted. It's nice to meet you both."

They smiled at her kindly before they were moved aside by the youngest boy who shot out his hand.

"I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

She shook his hand too and smiled, yet when he saw, the red in Ron's ears traveled to his face while instead his ears took on a purple hue. He gulped nervously, and rushed back to where his sister was. The youngest Weasley of them all, nevertheless, practically ran towards Hermione.

"Oh, you have no idea how long I've waited for another girl to come along. I don't know what I would've done if it had gone on much longer, I'm Ginny, by the way. It's nice to meet you, Hermione, too bad it will only last until you leave for Hogwarts," Ginny, apparently, stated.

"Why?"

"Because I'm only ten, I get to go to Hogwarts next year."

"Oh," Hermione was livened up by all of the chaos the Weasleys brought with them, but she was saddened by the fact that Ginny wasn't going to Hogwarts with them.

Everyone else in the house was chatting amongst themselves, mainly her parents and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They were near the television with the animated questions of Mr. Weasley surrounding them. The rest of the boys were near the fire place, with the twins resting their backs against the walls. Percy didn't look like he was very happy waiting with his siblings.

"Dad, don't mean to interrupt, but shouldn't we be going? We still have to beat all the other first years," it seemed like Percy was desperate to leave.

She couldn't blame, though, she probably had a completely different reason for wanting to leave. Still Mr. Weasley looked toward his current eldest; he then looked at the clock. His eyes got real wide before turning back to Percy.

"You're absolutely right, Perce. Molly, kids, Hermione, we best be going."

Hermione's eyes got incredibly wide as she realized that her parents wouldn't be accompanying her and the Weasleys, and her gaze went to them, then to the rest of the occupants of the room. The bubbles in the bottom of Hermione's stomach calmed slightly as she saw the smiles accompanying everyone else's face. Even if Percy still looked anxious to leave.

"Why aren't you coming?"

She was still unsure if she was comfortable with going alone with the Weasleys after first meeting them. She noticed that the adults shifted uncomfortably from her question. Her father just started to open his mouth as he was interrupted my Mr. Weasley instead.

"Your parents aren't coming, Hermione, because it was mutually agreed upon," Arthur responded, though they were dodging the question; not only that but his eyes darted all around, and he wouldn't keep still to save his life.

"Alright, but why?" Hermione was not going to move an inch before she got her answer, "Just because it was previously agreed that my parents weren't going doesn't mean that that's an answer."

"Honey," Her mum was the one to speak this time, yet she wishes that she hadn't. Just the tone of her voice, _ugh_ , Hermione didn't like it.

Not at all.

"Mum, why aren't you and dad coming?"

"Because there are some people in the wizarding world, who aren't very fond of us; all me and your father want for you is for you to have an honest shot."

The implication that sat in the air was weighty. It took a second for her to finally realize, however, she was internally emblazed when she did. Her naturally frizzy curls proofed up even further, and there was a certain kind of fire in her cinnamon eyes. She placed her hands on her childish hips, and directed her gaze to Arthur and Molly. Not to mention the remainder of the Weasleys standing behind their parents.

"Are you telling me that my parents aren't coming because there are _racists_ in your world?" She narrowed her gaze. "That's it? It's no secret that there are racists in this world too. I mean, look at the 1930 Neo-Nazi's."

"Hermione, that's enough," It was her father that chastised her. Richard knew that she would keep going if she didn't stop. He and his wife looked incredibly fond of their daughter. "And it's okay. You were born to be a part of that world, you know it, we know it."

"Really?"

"Yes," It was her mother this time. "And we'll see you when you get home."

Hermione faced the Weasleys with a new vigor. There was a smile on her face, they saw. Nevertheless, all she saw was the Weasleys strange expressions. Molly and Arthur looked apathic towards her, while the youngers each donned their respected reactions. The twins were smirking, while Percy looked surprised. On the other hand, Ginny was smug; Ron though, he looked sheepish.

A rose-colored tint showed on Hermione's cheeks as she thought about her earlier temper, "Ready?"

Molly beamed at Hermione, "Of course, dear."

Now the Weasleys started for the door with the Grangers behind them. Goodbyes were exchanged, and the Granger's were left behind as the Weasleys began to crowd into the sky-blue Ford Anglia with Hermione. It looked crowed; probably uncomfortably warm too since it was late noon in August. Still Richard and Jane stood on their porch together, watching as everyone else drove off, to what they assumed was somewhere in London.

Jane sighed, "I hope she'll be alright."

"Me too, Love, me too."


End file.
